My One And Only (19 page)

He reached for her hand. "I'm doing fine," he said with almost uncharacteristic energy. "What about you?"

"Good." Abby gave him a bright smile and took the seat next to him. Unable to sleep even after Ethan had settled in the guest room, she'd spent the small hours of the morning reviewing the events of the night.

The jack of spades in that envelope had continued to taunt her long after the dark shadows had passed. Someone knew something that had never
been revealed about her parents' murder. She'd never doubted that. Because Jack Lee's poker buddies had routinely called him Jack Spades, her father's restaurant had been cluttered with the playing-card motif. Friends had frequently given him things that featured his signature playing card in the design.

It had seemed odd to no one, then, that a jack of spades was found near Jack's body when he died. It could easily have been knocked off the wall, or dropped when the thief made his escape. No one, that is, except Abby. Though the police had eventually decided that her parents had been victims of a random robbery gone horribly wrong, Abby knew better. She'd tried to persuade the police, but the colder the trail had gotten, the less success she'd had.

But someone had left the jack of spades at the scene of the crime for a reason. Someone knew the truth. And, for reasons she couldn't begin to understand, was warning her now not to pursue it. Abby shook off the grim thought and concentrated on Carter. "Something going on I should know about, Colonel? You've got that twinkle in your eye that says you're up to no good."

His expression was pure mischief. She couldn't remember ever seeing him look so animated. "I'm up to something, all right," he confessed. "But there's plenty of good in it."

General Standen spotted them from across the
room and waved at Abby with his cane. He made his way toward them with a steady gait and, she noted, a slightly taller posture. Was it her imagination, or was there a renewed energy about the place today? Maybe Rachel's cookies were having some miraculous medicinal effect.

"Abigail," he said. "Good to see you, darling."

"You too, General. What's the news?"

He chuckled and placed both hands on his cane. Leaning toward her, he said, "Well, nothing mobilizes a bunch of old soldiers like a new mission."

"A new mission?" She saw the glances that passed between the general and Carter. "Somebody want to tell me what's going on around here?"

"Can't say right now," Carter answered. "We've got orders."

"Orders?"

The general nodded. "Just something we're looking into. Nothing for you to worry about."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yep," he assured her. "And you couldn't beat it out of us anyway."

"If you say so."

Carter squeezed her hand. "You look a little tired today, Abby. You been sleeping all right?"

Abby managed a slight laugh. "Now, Carter, since when did you start interrogating me? It's usually the other way around."

"I was just wondering if something, or someone, was maybe keeping you up late." His expression turned knowing.

"Are you trying to pry into my personal life?"

General Standen sat on the opposite side of her. " 'Course we are. What else do you think we do for fun around here?"

"Checkers gets old," Carter told her.

"And we got to sneak around to play poker," the general added.

"So we mostly just fight over who's going to ask you out," Carter said.

The general snorted. "Only we can't go out—so we just fight over it."

Abby held up her hands with a chuckle. "All right, all right. I surrender. I don't know what's gotten into the two of you, but I'm no match for it."

"Then you'll tell us all about this Ethan fellow?" Carter asked. "We got bets riding on how long you're going to string him along."

"I'm not stringing him along."

"Abigail," Carter said patiently, "one thing men our age know a lot about is the wiles of women."

"I don't have wiles."

"Hah." He folded his hands over his chest. "All women have wiles. Isn't that right, General?"

John Standen nodded. "Definitely right."

"And all women know how to use 'em," Carter continued. "Whether they admit it or not." His eyes twinkled. "Are you chasing this fellow or is he chasing you?"

The general grunted. "Now come on, Carter. What kind of question is that? You and I both know that man is footing it after Abby."

"That's what my money's on," Carter assured her.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said dryly.

"But what I want to know is," he continued, undaunted, "when are you going to let him catch you?"

"I'd like to know when he plans to get his hair cut," General Standen added.

Carter pinned her with a shrewd look. "And when's he coming back to Chicago?"

"
D
o you think I need a haircut?" Ethan asked Jack Iverson. He was in his San Francisco office, awaiting a phone call from Hansen Wells, the man he'd asked Jack to find and who he hoped could give him some crucial information about Jack Lee. He'd come straight to the office from the airport and had just finished changing his shirt when he asked Edna to summon Jack. Ethan was standing in the private bathroom off his office suite, tying his tie.

Jack was seated across from Ethan's desk. "I'm not in the habit of studying your hair," he pointed out.

Ethan frowned at his reflection. The dark waves had started to look shaggy. He'd forgotten
that during the two years he'd dated Pamela, she'd taken care of things like his personal appointments. He cinched the knot to his throat, then joined Jack in
the office. "Who's your bar
ber?" he asked him as he sat at his desk.

Jack's eyebrows rose. "I have a stylist," he replied. "It's considered more chic."

Ethan snorted and hit a button on his telephone. "I want a haircut, not a lifestyle."

"Yes?" Edna's voice came through the intercom.

"Edna, can you make me an appointment to get my hair cut this afternoon?"

"Sure. Any particular place?"

Ethan thought about the glass-and-neon shop Pamela had freque
nted and dismissed it. "Where
does your husband get his hair cut?" he asked his secretary.

"Joe's Barber Shop on Geary. I don't think it's your kind of place."

"It's fine. See if they can take me at three."

"Ethan"—her tone was pure amusement— "Joe's Barber Shop doesn't make appointments. It's a first-come, first-served type of place."

"Does Joe do shaves too?"

"Yes. That takes longer."

His gaze flicked to the calendar open on his computer screen. "Fine. Have a car ready for me at two-thirty. I'll go over there and wait."

"If you say so."

He punched the button to end the call. Jack was
watching him curiously. "You're acting weird," he announced.

Ethan shrugged. "Didn't get much sleep over the weekend."

"Really? Anything to do with Abby Lee?"

That made Ethan frown. "Not the way you think." He took out a piece of paper from his briefcase and handed it to Jack. It was the e-mail he'd received that morning from Charlie Blevins about his investigation of Abby Lee. "Tell me what you make of this."

Jack glanced at the address line on the e-mail. "You're having her investigated?"

"No. I'm having the situation investigated. I'm starting to believe that Harrison knows something about Jack Lee's murder."

Jack scanned the contents of the report. "He can't find anything other than birth records for Abby or her sister prior to the murder?"

"That's what he says."

"Didn't her father run a successful business in the downtown area?"

"A restaurant."

"Hmm." Jack continued to read. "Must have been fairly fanatical about his privacy. No Chamber of Commerce memberships, civic organizations. Nothing." He tapped the report with his finger. "The police determined that the murder was a random robbery."

"Yes."

"But you don't think so?"

"I'm not sure."

"What do you think Harrison knows about it?"

"I'm not sure about that either, but I find it odd that Charlie interviewed half a dozen people who supposedly knew the Lees very well and none of them remember him having daughters."

"What do you make of that?"

"I'm wondering if they knew the Lees at all, or if someone had an interest in creating a new circle of friends for Abby's parents after the murder."

Jack set the e-mail message aside and frowned at Ethan. "Who'd possibly have the motivation to do something like that?"

"Someone who wanted to keep anyone who knew a lot about Jack Lee and his past from talking to the police—or to anyone else."

"You think Lee was hiding something?"

"I think when a man runs a public business and has no public life, there's a reason." Ethan reached for a file folder, sifted the contents, and produced another piece of paper for Jack. "Look at this."

Jack studied the sheet. "This is the deed of sale for the building where Lee ran his restaurant."

"He bought it. Paid cash for it."

"Quarter of a million bucks."

"Where does an army corporal get that kind of money?"

Jack pondered the question. "Maybe his wife inherited."

Ethan shook his head. "I checked. There's no trail."

"Did Charlie check the financial records?"

"In the early sixties, Jack and Lucinda Lee started investing two to three thousand dollars a month in stocks and bonds. They were very lucky. Got in on the ground floor of some aeronautic stocks. Always in when stocks were low and out when stocks peaked."

"Pretty damned good for a couple of amateurs."

"Too good," Ethan concurred. "In seven years, they had enough to buy that buildin
g and, accord
ing to Charlie, to pay cash for the house they lived in outside the city."

Jack let out a low whistle. "Sounds like Jack was wasting his time in the restaurant business. He could have made millions as a broker."

"But he was also a lousy businessman. His IRS statements show consistent losses for the restaurant. There's no way he could have stayed in business without an independent bankroll."

"And you think Montgomery's got something to do with this?"

"I think it's too damned convenient that Harrison materialized with a job for Abby just a few weeks after Jack's murder. I also find it suspicious that the circle of
close friends the police inter
viewed didn't include any of his restaurant regulars. Jack had a group of poker buddies. They met
in the back room of the restaurant every other Thursday night."

"The police didn't talk to them either?"

"The only place their names show up in the case file is in the initial interview Abby had with the police. She was nineteen at the time, and in shock the night they interviewed her."

Jack swore. "What about the sister?"

"Three years old. Her mother had hidden her in the closet when
the killer came into the restau
rant."

"Abby found the bodies?"

"When her parents didn't come home that night, she drove into the city to check the restaurant. That's all in the report. The police had already been called to the scene by one of the neighbors. They interviewed her that night, and she gave them the names of Jack's poker buddies."

"But no one followed up."

"They also canvassed the neighborhood, which is how they turned up the names of the people they did talk to. When they went looking for the poker players, all
five were either out of town in
definitely or too difficult to locate. With a host of other witnesses at their disposal, and nothing to suggest the murder was anything more than a fouled robbery, the police didn't see the need to continue investigating."

Jack stroked his chin. "You're right. It's weird."

"Three weeks later, Abby went to work for Harrison. He hired her straight off the street, with no references and no training."

"Maybe he just felt sorry for her."

"That's her side of the story."

"You don't believe it?" Jack asked.

"Harrison never felt sorry for a person in his life. Whatever he did, he did for a reason."

"But you can't link him to the murder."

"No. Right now, I can't even link him to Jack Lee." Ethan leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. "But even more interesting than Lee's success in the stock market is the fact that those poker buddies all had similar portfolios. Jack was giving free investment advice in that back room."

"That would explain why his friends were hesitant to talk to the police."